


A Delivery From the Past

by Angelise (angelise7)



Series: Longing [4]
Category: NCIS
Genre: Established Relationship, M/M, Refers to characters from the episode Enigma, Refers to the death of a past minor character, Snippets, Threesome - M/M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-26
Updated: 2016-07-26
Packaged: 2018-07-26 19:29:57
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,221
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7587007
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/angelise7/pseuds/Angelise
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Three boxes arrive in the mail.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Delivery From the Past

**Author's Note:**

> You really need to have read the first story in this series to understand the significance of these characters to Jethro.

Gerald tossed his armful of discarded 2x4 scraps into the huge trash dumpster they were renting from Waste Management during the construction on the additions to their home. Tony followed right behind him and groaned long and hard once he’d unloaded his burden. Gerald rolled his eyes and studiously ignored the familiar whine that followed. His partner was not a fan of physical labor and yet, even though he was incredibly verbose regarding his dislike, he rolled out of bed at the crack of dawn every day, ready to tackle whatever task Jethro assigned him. Unfortunately, they still had at least another year before the construction on their home was finished, which meant a whole lot more whining. Joy, joy!

“ . . . at least TWO, did you hear me, **TWO** hours in the jacuzzi this evening and maybe, just maybe, I’ll be fit enough to participate in our nightly romp under the covers.”

Gerald nearly choked on his laughter. “Has there ever been a time when you haven’t participated in our . . . how did you put it . . . _nightly romp under the covers_?”

Grinning, Tony headed back toward the area currently under construction. “What can I say? One look from those soulful, bedroom eyes of yours and all my aches and pains magically disappear.”

“You are so full of shit.”

“Pretty sure I was full of something else last night.”

Gerald couldn’t help but blush. The three of them had been rather adventuresome last night, bolstered by the numerous celebratory shots of bourbon they had enjoyed after hearing Tony’s latest book had hit the number one spot on the NY Times Best Seller’s List. The celebration had migrated to the bedroom and Tony, who was forever stealing ideas from the slash fanfiction he read about his favorite TV shows and movies, had brazenly suggested an activity that, if they had been in their right minds, might have caused a moment of hesitation, but they were all three sheets to the wind and, to be honest, it had sounded sexy as hell.

“Or maybe I should say _somethings_.”

Tony exaggerated the ‘s’ at the end of the word _something_ , which had Gerald covering his flaming face with both hands. “I can’t believe we did that. Hell, I can’t believe **Jethro** did that.

Tony wiggled his ass before grabbing a wheelbarrow filled with scrap pieces of shingles. “I highly recommend you try it in the near future. It was glorious.”

Gerald stared blindly at the second wheelbarrow waiting to be emptied. He couldn’t move an inch because his brain was being held hostage by the image of himself impaled on both Tony’s and Jethro's cock at the same time.

“Fuck!”

“Times two, G-man!” Tony yelled.

Taking a deep breath, Gerald forced his attention back to the task at hand and was grabbing for the handles of his wheelbarrow when a sound from Jethro's workshop stopped him. He was still staring at the building when Tony returned.

“How long has he been in there?”

“Since breakfast.”

Tony stepped up behind him and wrapped him in a loose hug. “Since breakfast? He didn’t come in for lunch?”

Gerald shook his head. Tony had been on a conference call with his agent at the time and had eaten his lunch in the room designated as his office and was unaware of Jethro's absence.

“I went out there,” Gerald explained, “and asked if he wanted me to make him a sandwich but he said no.” Reaching for Tony’s hands, he intertwined their fingers. “He was holed up in that back room, looking through those boxes that came in the mail last month.”

The boxes were from the estate of William Ryan, Jethro's former CO and ex-lover. Unbeknownst to Jethro, Ryan had died nine months ago following emergency open heart surgery. The heir to the man’s estate, a distant cousin by the name of Daniel Shephard, had contacted them regarding the instructions Ryan had left with him. Along with a lump sum of $37,000, three boxes had been delivered to their doorstep exactly one month ago with Jethro's name written in Ryan’s bold script across each one of them.

Jethro had immediately donated the money to their favorite charity for wounded veterans while the three boxes were locked away in the back room of his workshop. As far as he and Tony knew, the boxes had remained untouched until today.

A name floated up from his subconscious.

“What’s the date?” He turned abruptly in Tony’s arms and locked gazes with his lover. Tony recited the date which caused him to curse, “Shit.” He broke free and headed toward Jethro's workshop, leaving Tony to stumble after him.

“What? What’s wrong? What’s important about today?”

A face attached itself to the name and to a memory from two years ago.

It had been during those long days and nights the two of them had spent sitting side by side in the hospital, waiting for Tony to be released from the ICU. They had passed those long hours basically talking -- sharing their life stories. Of course, he had shared more than Jethro but what Jethro had shared had been intensely personal and was the reason he now understood the importance of this day.

“It’s Cameron.”

“Who?”

Stopping short of entering the building, he whipped around and solidly kissed Tony on the mouth before tapping his lover on the nose. “You really need to start paying attention when Jethro talks about his past.”

“I listen!” Tony exclaimed.

Gerald shook his head and offered Tony another loving kiss. “You listen but only to what you want to hear. Now, just shut up and follow my lead.”

He carefully opened the door and stepped inside. The main room was filled with his lover’s current project -- a cypress table and chairs for their newly enlarged kitchen. Unfortunately, their creator was nowhere in sight.

Grabbing Tony’s hand, he pulled his lover in the direction of the room at the rear of the workshop. They both stepped across the threshold and found Jethro standing in the middle of the room surrounded by the contents of the boxes. Books, journals, framed pictures, various knick-knacks littered almost every flat surface in the room. There were also several uniforms – dress, combat, desert camouflage, one of which he swore was stained with what looked like blood. There were tactical vests, helmets and . . . what the fuck! . . . two assault rifles.

Making a note to check the rifles for live ammo, Gerald turned his attention to the remaining items scattered around the room and discovered Jethro's focus was captured by a stack of old photos. One specific photo was clutched in his lover’s right hand and he knew from the devastated look on his face, who exactly was featured in the photo.

Stepping closer, he made sure Jethro was aware of his approach before standing behind the man and wrapping his arms around him. Tony followed suit and embraced them both.

Gerald offered Tony a smile of appreciation before placing a kiss behind Jethro's left ear. “Talk to us, babe. Tell us about Cameron.”

Jethro reached back a hand and lightly squeezed his neck before fulfilling his request.

“Cameron loved horses. Did I ever tell you that? He rode broncos professionally before joining up with the Marines.”

They never made it to the jacuzzi that night.

 

End

 

 


End file.
